The Reason
by goldieasj
Summary: Heyes encounters an old enemy, a man who intends to force him to kill the Kid!


_Heyes encounters an old enemy, a man who intends to force him to kill the Kid!_

**THE REASON**

**by Goldie**

"Remember me, Heyes?"

Other than the voice speaking those three words, there were no real clues to help Hannibal Heyes identify the man behind them. Surprised from his lonely journey through the middle of nowhere, Heyes put his body on full alert, turning toward the voice. But he saw only an average-sized man outlined against the setting sun. The face was not visible. The gun in the man's hand was.

"I'd hate to think you don't recognize my voice. We spent a lot of time together, Hannibal Heyes, you and me. Think back now . . ."

_The voice is familiar_, thought Heyes. _But the feelings it brings to mind are not good ones. This is not a friend. Why can't I place him?_

" . . . back to the years in the Wayward Home. Still not got it? Remember the kitchen?"

It didn't help. Heyes and his friend Jed Curry had not made many friends in that terrible place. The Valparaiso Home for Waywards. He and Jed hadn't been waywards. They'd been normal, happy neighbor kids until their parents had been brutally murdered one day and they'd been left orphaned. There was no place else to put them. They hadn't belonged there. _The Wayward Home._ The name brought back ugly memories to Heyes, but the person belonging to the voice did not come to mind.

One thing was certain, though – the man obviously knew who he was. No point in denying he was the famous outlaw.

Following his instincts, Heyes knew this was someone who needed pacifying. He put on his best false smile. "I think so!" he lied. "It's coming back to me."

"Good! Because I'd hate to think that I don't mean anything to you. Not after what you did to me!"

_What I did to you? My God, what? Who the hell are you?_

There was a standoff moment of silence, which Heyes chose to break flippantly. "Long time. So . . . how are you now?"

"Not as good as you, Heyes. Now toss me that firearm of yours." The man began moving closer to Heyes, his gun leveled the entire time. When Heyes threw the gun at his feet, the man carefully picked it up and stuck it in his belt. As he came out of shadow, his facial features became more prominent and Heyes began to feel that he did possibly recognize this person. This man was about his own age, which means he would have been a boy at the time. He would have looked – and sounded – differently, so that would explain why he didn't come immediately to mi . . .

"My God! Devi Sodd!" Heyes surprised himself with the sudden recognizance.

"'Bout time. Figured the kitchen clue would help. I see you're good, but you can see what happened to me." He never aimed the nose of the gun in any direction except at Heyes. The closer he came, the more menacing he looked. Heyes could indeed see what happened to him. His face was ugly and scarred. He had a slight limp, also.

Heyes searched his memory quickly and came away with an image of Devi as a boy a year older than him, ugly even then, and mean as they come. Always bossing everyone around and starting fights at every opportunity. He injured a number of the boys, Heyes remembered, including Jed Curry, who was fully three years younger than him. And Devi seemed to have a love of fire. He was someone Heyes always avoided as much as possible. But the kitchen clue, what was that?

"You're looking good, Devi," Heyes lied again. "So what's with the gun?"

"Well, I got a story to tell you, Hannibal Heyes. And I want you to listen. You were never good at listening to me at the Home. No one was. But you're going to listen to me now, so take off your jacket and sit the hell down. On the ground." He gestured to the ground with the gun. Heyes didn't like the disadvantage of being off his feet at the wrong end of a gun, but there was obviously no choice. He placed his jacket over his saddle horn, dismounted and sat down on the road. Glancing quickly around, he could see they were completely alone.

Devi relaxed a bit but never turned the business end of his pistol away from Heyes. "You looked surprised to see me, but can't say I blame you. I been locked away in the prison for a while now. Fact is, it's been a few years. Otherwise, you'd a heard about me. But I heard things, Heyes when I was in there. I heard about how you and Jed Curry teamed up and robbed banks and stole a lot of money . . ."

"All hearsay, Devi."

"Shut up, Heyes! I told you – I'm talking now. I heard about the two of you. Just like I knew about the two of you at the Home. You and Jed – always together and always plotting behind my back . . ."

This made absolutely no sense. Heyes didn't recall ever plotting against Devi, although there was probably never anyone who deserved it more. He and Jed had done everything possible to stay out of Devi's way. To cross his path always meant pain, sometimes a little and more often a lot. Heyes took a good look at his adversary. Devi was not a large man but his arm muscles were apparent, maybe a result of chopping rocks while in prison, thought Heyes sarcastically. With a start, he realized this was probably the truth.

And why had he been in prison? Heyes could think of any number of reasons, none of which he wanted to dwell on. He tried sidetracking Devi.

"The way I remember it – it was you and Billy Bolster who always looked for trouble! Jed and I had nothing to do with it."

This took Devi off-guard for a moment. He stared at Heyes and then laughed a little. It was an evil laugh and made Heyes's blood run cold. "Where's Jed Curry now, Heyes? Where's Kid Curry?"

"We're not together any more, Devi. We split up a while back – maybe a couple years now. No idea where he's . . ."

"_You lie, Heyes!"_ The bellowed roar of Devi's voice took Heyes completely by surprise. For one terrifying moment Heyes actually thought Devi would shoot him then and there. "You lie! The telegrapher in that last town showed me your telegraph. You're going to meet Curry in Frankton tomorrow! You told him you'd meet him there. You're on your way there now!"

All true. Heyes pitied the poor telegrapher and what he may have endured before he gave Devi the information he wanted. Heyes thought fast and a number of possible escape routes occurred to him. But the kitchen clue – he wanted to know what the kitchen clue was first. Hannibal Heyes was inexorably drawn to danger. He decided to listen to Devi's story before giving him the slip.

"Suppose you tell me what this is all about, Devi."

Somehow Devi looked evil even when he was pacified. "Oh, so now you're interested, huh? Now that you know I know all about you."

"Been interested all along. It's always good to see an old friend." Heyes half-heartedly produced his best smile. "I'm sure you can understand our need to lay low, not admit anything."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't care. Don't care about no reward money, neither. The only thing I'm interested in is what the two of you did to me all those years ago. You're going to pay, Heyes."

Other than the gun, this was the first real threat, and Heyes felt the tension of it through to his soul. Devi had always been able to produce that kind of sensation and it was not welcome at all. Heyes had a difficult time gathering himself together. He narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore what he recognized as fear. "What the devil are you talking about, Devi? We were friends, don't you remember?"

"Friends! Ha! Seems to me your memory is the one that isn't too good, Heyes. I hated you every single day and I vowed to myself to get even when I could. And today is the day."

Now Heyes was sure that an immediate escape would be the best idea. He looked around, trying not to make his movements apparent. The lay of the land was basically flat with some trees and scrub brush scattered about alongside. Ahead of him he could see no one and nothing else. Off the road, a hundred yards in, was a dilapidated house and a couple of collapsed outbuildings. Behind him he could see a wagon approaching on the road. The land was flat and Heyes could tell that the wagon was still quite a ways away. He tried to estimate the amount of time that it would be before it got close enough for him to call out to, but he was interrupted.

"Lie on your stomach, Heyes, and put your hands behind you." When Heyes didn't immediately respond, Devi cocked the gun and raised it to aim at Heyes's head. "Don't like having to tell you things twice. I know you're not stupid."

Reluctantly, Heyes followed the orders. He was not surprised to see Devi approach and begin tying his hands together. He was, however, painfully surprised when Devi then stepped on his hands to kick him over onto his back. Heyes cried out in spite of himself.

"Now you see where we stand, _friend," _Devi said in a sadistic tone. "Get up!"

Not an easy thing to do. Heyes's hands were useless tied behind him, and his hands and his back hurt where he had been attacked. Slowly he brought himself to his knees and then to a standing position. "I don't know what you're playing at here . . ."

"No, you don't yet. Shut up! In fact . . ." Something suddenly occurred to Devi and he removed his neckerchief and tied it tightly around Heyes's head and mouth so he couldn't cry out. "Now get going." He waved his gun in the direction of the house that could barely be seen from the road.

Heyes knew that if he was going to solicit help from the approaching wagon that he would have to make sure he was within view of its driver when it got close. He had to stall Devi, but he could no longer speak to him. Heyes trusted his own strength, so as they began the walk, he turned suddenly and head-butted Devi, sending him sprawling to the ground and spooking the two horses he was leading. The gun went flying. The gun would be no use to him without hands, so Heyes made an instant decision to attack Devi again, this time to inflict serious injury. Devi had maneuvered to his knees and was trying to regain his breath when Heyes kicked him in the chest as hard as he could. He had been aiming for Devi's head but Devi saw it coming and moved at the last second. As Devi tumbled backwards again, Heyes lost his own footing and crashed to the ground, the breath momentarily knocked out of him as well. They both lay on the ground panting.

Devi rose first.

He glared at Heyes and then slowly and painfully retrieved his gun. Heyes felt powerless to respond. He tried to avoid the butt end of the gun as it crashed against the side of his head but was only able to maneuver slightly out of the way. He felt the blood underneath the gag before he was aware of the pain. Slightly woozy for a moment, he was unable to respond when he heard Devi yell at him to get to his feet. When he saw Devi about to attack again, he forced himself to stand, however unsteadily.

"Now _walk!"_ Devi screamed at him.

Heyes had no choice but to follow orders. His gait was unsteady and his stomach was lurching but he managed to make it all the way to the open doorway of the old house. He hesitated and looked longingly back at the wagon on the road. Devi followed his gaze and then poked him hard in the ribs with the gun. This was the final straw. Heyes fell to the floor face-first, dust spewing out in all directions.

As he tried to regain his equilibrium, he was vaguely aware of being pulled by his wrists to a sitting position. The pain this caused to his shoulders was powerful and he cried out again, but this time the gag in his mouth silenced his voice. As he wiggled his body in an attempt to provide comfort for his arms, Devi suddenly let go of him. Once again Heyes fell to the floor, but this time he immediately tried to crawl away. Devi grabbed him by the hair to stop him and then Heyes felt a rope at his neck. He was woozy and hurting all over, but the foremost thought in his mind was that Devi was going to try to hang him _as he lay on the floor. _Heyes shook his head in an effort to free himself but Devi was stronger and soon had him tied by the neck to a sturdy table leg. Devi then tied his legs behind him to his wrists.

By this time, both of them were panting hard, Devi from the exertion, and Heyes to try to catch his breath through the taut rope at his neck.

Devi slowly got to his feet. "I told you you'd pay, Heyes. It starts now. I'm leaving but I'll be back soon. If I was you, I wouldn't try to move too much. The more you move, the tighter it gets on your neck."

As a final insult, Devi picked up Heyes's hat and slammed it over the side of his head. Heyes could no longer see as his view was blocked by the hat. He made a small attempt to nod his head so the hat would fall but Devi was right about the rope tightening. He lay as still as possible and tried to catch as much air as he could with each wheezing breath.

His discomfort was enormous. He wasn't getting enough air, his head hurt where he had been hit with the gun, he was still nauseous, his body hurt in a number of spots where he had fallen and been kicked, his scalp felt like it was on fire, and his shoulders and legs ached tremendously. But the lack of air – that was the worst. He lay perfectly still and tried to think through his situation. His thinking was unclear.

In a few minutes, Devi returned.

"Lucky thing I spotted you in Lyndon last week. Been following you ever since. Every move. I even know the names you're going by now! Smith and Jones." Devi's tone of voice was almost friendly and took Heyes off-guard. Devi reached down to retrieve Heyes's hat; he blew the dust off it and placed it on the table. Heyes watched out of the corners of his eyes as Devi sat on the nearest chair and leaned down for a closer look. "You don't look too comfortable, Heyes. What do you say?"

Heyes continued gasping for breath and made no attempt to answer.

"Cat got your tongue?" Devi smiled wickedly and pulled out a knife. Heyes involuntarily backed off, the rope tightening even more around his neck. He closed his eyes and awaited his fate.

But Devi merely sliced cleanly through the rope at Heyes's neck. Heyes allowed his head to drop to the floor, coughing and gasping to take in as much of the stale air in the house as possible. As much as the gag would allow. With his hands and feet tied behind him, he couldn't maneuver very much. He was thankful to be freed from his tether to the table, but that was the only positive emotion he felt. As he listened to Devi's sinister laughing, he began to feel an intense hatred for someone he had always merely disliked. _Control yourself, Heyes, _he thought to himself. _Don't let him control you. You're smarter than him._

In a minute, Devi stopped laughing and Heyes had caught his breath. "All right, Heyes, playtime is over. Let's talk." Devi reached down and removed the gag. Once again Heyes exulted in the amount of air filling his lungs, but once again he toyed with the emotion of hatred. He glared at Devi and waited. He didn't have long to wait.

"I never forgot what you did to me in that kitchen, Heyes, you and Jed Curry, and now you're both going to pay."

_That damn kitchen again! _Heyes tried to say something but coughed instead.

"I got big plans for . . ." Devi stopped mid-sentence and took a close look at his adversary. "Wait a minute here! Wait just a minute! You don't remember the kitchen, do you?"

Rather than answer, Heyes feigned more coughing.

"You jackass! You don't even remember! I can tell you don't! I almost died because of you and Curry and you don't even remember!" Heyes suddenly felt an emotion akin to fear as Devi waved the knife in his face. He backed away and tried desperately to remember the kitchen incident. He could recall the kitchen itself and sneaking in occasionally to steal extra food, but this had nothing to do with Devi. He also recalled that the kitchen was the room that he and the Kid last saw at the Valparaiso Home as they agreed to run away. And he never looked back.

All this quickly ran through Hannibal Heyes's head as he watched the knife slice the air dangerously close to his face. "Yeah, yeah, I remember," Heyes lied. "Watch what you're doing, Devi. You accidentally kill me and you don't get what you want."

"You bastard," Devi lowered his voice as Heyes's words sank in. "You bastard," he said again softly and lowered the knife. His anger abated, he sat back down and dropped the knife. "I got plans for you," he repeated softly.

Hannibal Heyes and Devi Sodd glared at each other. Hatred was now completely mutual.

* * *

Kid Curry was enjoying a pleasant evening on the front porch of the Frankton Hotel, comfortable and safe. He lit up a good-tasting cigar and leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the railing. As he watched the meager activity on the main street of town, he allowed his mind to wander. Heyes's telegram stated he would arrive tomorrow. The Kid was glad his friend would arrive soon because he missed him. He chuckled a little at that, embarrassed that he felt that way. But he did. He and Heyes had been partners since they had grown up together in Kansas. First with their families, then in the Valparaiso Home, and then in an outlaw partnership. And after that, going straight. They'd always been together and, he felt, they worked well together. They still enjoyed each other's company and probably always would.

The Kid focused a few minutes' thought on each of those phases of their lives. The Valparaiso part was painful – they'd never really fit in because they were different. A look of disdain crossed his face as he remembered why; most of the other boys had come from broken homes and were basically, well, _thugs_. He chuckled again at the irony that it had been he and Heyes who had chosen the outlaw path in life. But, even as a fast gun, he had never killed anyone. And as a thief, Heyes had never robbed anyone who could not afford the loss. His mind drifted back to the Valparaiso Home, wondering vaguely what ever happened to some of the boys.

When he concentrated on their post-outlaw lives as honest citizens he remembered warmly that it was during this time that he had finally realized how much Heyes had always meant to him. Their partnership had always worked well to sustain him, but they were more than partners, he knew. They shared a very deep friendship. In many ways, there was no one else and nothing else in life that meant more to him that Heyes. And he realized that Heyes felt the same way. They would have, and would always, do anything for each other.

Although he was unaware of it, a warm smile lingered on his face.

* * *

"Frankton is nineteen miles from here," Devi said, deeply in thought. He studied his fingernails and Heyes studied him.

Heyes had been busy thinking and had started remembering a number of things about Devi, none of them good. "What's your real name, Devi?" he asked. "It's David or Dennis, or something like that . . ."

Devi looked up, interested that the conversation was centering on him.

". . . I remember that no one called you by your real name. I remember that we all started calling you 'Devil' when you first got there, but the staff made us change that, so we started calling you 'Devi' instead. I remember . . ." But Heyes never got to finish his sentence because Devi backhanded him hard across the face.

"You shut up about that, Heyes! That's none of your business! The only thing we think about now is what's going to happen tomorrow morning!"

Heyes could tell by the burning that a bruise was already forming on his cheek where he'd been hit. Without missing a beat, he asked, "So what's going to happen tomorrow morning?"

Once again, Devi's temper left as quickly as it had formed. He leaned back in his chair and smiled wickedly. "You wait and see, Heyes," he teased.

Heyes was now seated in a kitchen chair with his hands tied behind it and his legs tied to its legs. Compared to his earlier positions, he was relatively comfortable. The irony was not lost on him when he realized that Devi meant serious harm to him in the morning. He decided to risk further questioning.

"Come on, Devi, don't be a child! What's going to happen tomorrow?"

Devi slowly lowered his chair back down and stared hard at Heyes. "You're going to kill Kid Curry tomorrow morning! Hannibal Heyes is going to murder Kid Curry!"

* * *

For once, they had jobs waiting. A friend of fellow outlaw Preacher's, a rich politician actually, needed a couple of men with special skills for a special kind of job. His wife's jewels had been stolen, but recovered. Now he needed someone (Heyes) to design a new hiding place for them and he wanted someone (Curry) to act as guard until the valuables were properly ensconced. Now that they'd gone straight, Heyes and Curry fit the bill perfectly. They merely needed to meet up in Frankton and ride a few hundred miles north to Wyoming.

Kid Curry liked the idea of this job and the comfort it would provide while they were employed. He hoped it would take Heyes a while with that design but he knew Heyes was quick and intelligent and they'd probably be out of work again in a short while. The Kid laughed briefly at that. Never did they seem able to hold a job, but at least this one paid well.

As he mused, he idly watched a middle-aged man rein up a buckboard and enter the hotel. In a few seconds the man emerged from the lobby and headed right for him. The Kid's right arm was ready at his side, always expecting the worst.

But this man was friendly. "Desk clerk says you're Thaddeus Jones?" he asked the Kid, who nodded. "Got a letter here for you from a friend of yours name of Joshua Smith."

* * *

_Kill the Kid! _Was this wretch serious? Heyes felt the desire to laugh, but squelched it as he saw through Devi's expression right down to the evil in his soul. In spite of itself, Heyes shivered. His silver tongue had not worked with this man and he no longer felt the desire to be creative. "I'm not going to kill the Kid, Devi, and there's nothing you can do to make me do it. Fact, you've already done just about everything to me you can."

Devi's smile was downright sinful and again Heyes shivered. When he spoke, Devi's voice was smooth and deep. "There's one more thing, Heyes, just one more. Ever since the kitchen, I've wanted nothing more than to see the two of you dead. All those years in the prison, this is what I kept thinking about, this is what kept me going. I dreamed about killing the two of you. Maybe a shootout. Maybe an ambush when you least expected. And then – when I got out – I got a better idea. One of you would kill the other and I would watch! Didn't matter to me which one. But I ran into you first, Heyes, so looks like you're the lucky one who gets to live. But I'll be right there watching, front and center, and you _will_ kill Jed Curry!"

Heyes couldn't think straight. Looking into Devi's eyes was beginning to unnerve him. Jaw set, he looked away.

It didn't make sense. The Kid re-read the letter for the third time. It just didn't sound like something Heyes would do. But there it was, in black and white:

_Jed,_

_I know I said to meet up at Franton but I ran into a nice old cuple who need help fixing up their house because it old and faling apart too and I said we would help them and if I say it you do it too. Meet me here tomoro morning and bring a pantbrush they wont be here but I will so you can just come in and don't knok._

_Hann_

Their plan had now completely changed. Instead of heading to good-paying jobs, they were now lingering in the middle of nowhere in order to help an old couple paint their dilapidated house. What had come over Heyes? Why would he change their solid plans for something this . . . this _silly?_ The Kid looked up at the man who had delivered the note, the man in the wagon, as he began to drive away. The Kid waved and yelled _thanks again_ but didn't feel thankful. He was happy the man gave him good directions to the dilapidated house since Heyes hadn't seen fit to include them in his letter, but he wasn't happy about any of the rest of this.

But, the Kid figured as he sat back down, Heyes must know what he's doing. He always does; he's usually right. Maybe this couple is influential with people the governor knows. Maybe they just remind Heyes of his own family, all destroyed so long ago. Maybe . . . maybe he'd find out tomorrow.

Kid Curry sighed, resigned to the change in plans. He folded the letter and carefully placed it inside his vest pocket.

_Jed? Hann? _Heyes hadn't used those names since Valparaiso.

Heyes loved the Kid. And love was not an emotion that came easy to this seasoned outlaw. There was absolutely no way that he would lift one finger to harm anyone he felt that way about. He would not kill Kid Curry. He would die instead.

For this is what Devi promised him if he failed in his assassination. "Better make sure you shoot to kill, Heyes," growled Devi. "He's fast, I know, and you'll only get one chance. Better make sure your bullet is true. If not, I kill him first and then you. And for you – it won't be a quick death like his. I'll slice you end to end and lay you out to the mercy of the vultures." Heyes didn't want to die like this but it was preferable to killing the Kid.

But there might be a way out. All he had to do was find some way to warn the Kid at the exact instant he entered the house. He had to be quick enough to get a frantic message through to his partner, a message of warning that there were two guns pointed at him. One would fire while the other wouldn't.

Heyes thought he could do this. He visualized all the ways Devi would position him for the assassination and in each and every picture in his mind he devised a way to warn the Kid. He would shout through the gag, he would kick the floor noisily, he would position his body in front of Devi's gun, he would do whatever it took. A warning.

Devi had told him what he had written in the note and given to the man in the wagon to deliver. Heyes knew the Kid had a heart of gold and would go along with the plan to help the non-existent elderly couple fix their house. He knew the Kid wouldn't be happy about skipping the good-paying job but would trust Heyes implicitly to make the right decision. This admirable character trait would mean the Kid would enter the house in a trusting frame of mind, and Heyes knew it was up to him to change that in an instant. The Kid was amazingly fast with a gun – so fast that he could easily pick off both Heyes and Devi before realizing what he had done. This is what Heyes wanted. To find a way to warn the Kid so he could react before Devi could get off a shot.

Another possibility would be getting free before the Kid arrived. Heyes craned his neck to look around the entire house. It was a small house with only three rooms, the largest one being the one he and Devi occupied, a small bedroom and an even smaller storage room, both off the back. There was only one window and it was situated far to the left of the main door. Surprisingly, the glass was intact. There was a minimum of furniture in the house, the kitchen table and chairs, an empty gunrack, a side table, an uninviting-looking bed in the bedroom with its bedding torn and stained. The shelves in the storage room were empty for the most part but the little room contained a door that led to the back yard, sitting slightly unhinged. Whoever had lived here had taken almost everything with them when they left. From the coating of dust and spider webs, the animal spoor and the generally bad condition the house was in, Heyes figured it had been some time ago. No chance of rescue by a returning homeowner.

Having already worked for hours at the rope that bound his hands together, Heyes knew he would not be able to free himself. He continued to work at the task, his wrists bloody, but had little hope that he would be successful. His legs were also bound to the heavy chair, equally tight, but the ropes circled his boots so his ankles were not bloody. Both his arms and legs were tightly bound and he did not see escape happening by morning.

Heyes wondered what time it was. Devi had been sound asleep for hours, forsaking the bed and choosing instead to lie in front of the main door to avoid surprise. There would be no surprise, Heyes thought dismally, except for his friend. The last thing Kid Curry would ever see was the sight of his partner and a man he probably wouldn't recognize both aiming guns at him. He may die thinking the bullet that would kill him would come from his friend.

Yet another intolerable thought.

All through the night, Heyes's mind wandered from one thought to another, always trying to come up with some escape plan. Each time he found hope in some new notion, his step-by-step strategy always ended in failure. Every new idea lead to disaster, both he and the Kid meeting their ends at the hands of Devi Sodd. Heyes knew that he would not kill his friend, but he did not see any way that he could keep Devi from doing so.

By the time dawn arrived, Heyes was in a terrible state. He had not slept at all, his wrists were raw and bloody, his back hurt, he was stiff from sitting in the same position for hours, his shoulders still hurt from Devi pulling on them, and the wound at his temple from the butt end of the gun was still slightly bleeding. Heyes felt nauseous and weak but knew he would find strength to do everything he could to see that Devi killed him instead of Kid Curry. It was the one focused thought in his mind.

* * *

At dawn, Kid Curry had already finished breakfast and started off for the dilapidated house where his partner wanted to meet. His head was full of questions that he fully expected to have answered once he arrived. Hard questions, maybe hard answers. Twenty miles, he figured, at the most. It looked like a long straight road and his horse was cantering. It shouldn't take long before he found out what the hell was going on.

At one point, he slowed his horse to a walk so he could pull out the letter and re-read it.

_Hann_

* * *

Devi Sodd wasted no time after arising. Using sheer brute strength, he positioned Heyes, still tied to his chair, against the back wall, the storage room immediately behind him. From his vantage point, Heyes had a clear shot, or view, of the front door. Devi then placed another of the heavy chairs immediately in front of Heyes. From a burlap bag he had apparently brought with him, Devi removed a hammer and some nails. Heyes watched, fascinated, as his adversary then nailed all four legs of his chair soundly to the floor, proceeding then to do the same thing to the chair in front of him.

"You don't have a very good opinion of me, Devi. You think I'm planning on stealing these chairs?"

"Shut up!" Next, Devi tied Heyes by his neck to the top of the chair he was sitting in, allowing enough stretch for breathing, but not enough to move. Heyes was facing the front door and was not able to move at all. The chair legs being secured to the floor, his arms and legs tethered to the chair, and his head being held tight at the neck did not allow for any flexibility. He was supremely uncomfortable and the thought that he would die in this position began to take root.

Devi then tied Heyes's left arm painfully to the back of the chair before untying the wrist bonds. For the moment, Heyes's right hand was freed. The sudden flow of blood felt so powerful that he forgot momentarily to make an escape attempt. But Devi moved so quickly that there wasn't time anyhow.

"No, ideas, Heyes. I heard you got lots of imagination. It all ends today." Although Heyes resisted, his one free arm was no match for Devi's two strong ones. In what at first seemed like an odd move, Heyes's right arm was straightened and tied at the wrist to the top of the chair in front of him. His left arm was now securely and painfully fastened behind him and his right arm was pointing straight toward the door with his wrist secured to the top of the other chair. "What the hell . . .?"

In spite of himself, Heyes allowed his eyes to follow Devi's every movement, baffled but fascinated with the industriousness. Next Devi moved one more heavy chair right next to Heyes. With the placement of this last chair, he stood back and examined his job. Not completely satisfied, he checked Heyes's leg, arm, and neck ropes to make sure they were tight and secure. He made sure the chairs could not move.

"One more thing, Heyes." Devi grabbed a couple neckerchiefs from his bag and stuffed one of them in Heyes's mouth, tying another around his head to make sure the first stayed in place. "Wouldn't want you making any noise."

Now he was satisfied. He stood back and smiled at Heyes. "All we have to do now is wait." He checked one of his guns to make sure it was full of bullets and placed it in its holster. He removed all the bullets except one from Heyes's gun and laid it on the table. He then walked to the window and grabbed the last chair to sit in comfort as he looked out.

Heyes had a good view of the front door and of Devi off to the side, staring out the window. He tried struggling for a minute but gave it up when the only result was the rope cutting tighter into his neck. Devi paid him little attention, apparently far more interested in watching for Kid Curry than . . .

_The Kid! _ Heyes's body gave an involuntary start as he suddenly pieced it together. _This _was what Devi meant by _Hannibal Heyes is going to murder Kid Curry! _Right here! Today, this morning! Heyes was going to be given the gun on the table, the gun with the one bullet, and he was going to be expected to shoot Kid Curry as his friend walked innocently through the front door! He was going to shoot Kid Curry!

Or he would be killed himself.

Dear God, that was it. Devi's crazy plan.

Emotion overtaking him, Heyes began gasping for breath. Devi shot him a quick glance but didn't appear interested.

"No!" Heyes gargled, as the gag did its job to silence him. "No!" He struggled against his ties but his only reward was Devi warning him to keep quiet or he'd choke.

"_No!" _thought Heyes, suddenly calming down. _The Kid won't die. I won't let this happen. I'll die instead._

It was probably only an hour or two but seemed like an eternity. Heyes had long since abandoned his struggle against his bindings and sat dejectedly in his chair, slumped as much as the ropes allowed. His body pained him in the areas of attack and his right arm, stretched out to the chair in front of him, burned with disuse. He paid his body no attention. How he felt no longer mattered. He knew he would die soon.

There was no longer a question in his mind. He _would _die. But the Kid, his adored lifelong friend, would not die at his hand. He would die instead. His devotion and affection for the Kid outweighed anything else in his life, including, today, his desire to live.

Heyes knew he would be a hero if he died to save the Kid. A dead hero. Because their affection was reciprocal, he knew the Kid would be angry with him for his decision. But he also knew that the Kid would not be able to feel anything at all if he was dead. Let him be angry. Let him live.

Give him the chance to remember, the chance to remember the affection, the chance to remember the good times, even the bad times. Give him a chance. _This is my goal. This is all I can do. And I will . . ._

Heyes's deepest thoughts were rudely disrupted by the sound of Devi standing suddenly, pushing the chair back. Heyes looked to see Devi standing at the window, his gaze intent upon something he apparently saw way out on the road. Instinctively, Heyes knew what it was and his body came to the fullest attention he could manage.

In a moment, they were both able to relax as Devi sat back down at the window. "Never mind, Heyes. That wasn't him. Looked like it might'a been. Man on a horse stopped and looked this way, but he kept on going."

Heyes relaxed his body. Every cell seemed to have some new ability to take in oxygen. _It's not the Kid. The Kid is not here yet. He's still alive. He's still . . ._

"Better get you ready. He should be here soon." Devi mumbled to himself as he grabbed the one-bullet gun from the table. "Take this," he said, forcing the gun in Heyes's right hand. Heyes dropped it intentionally.

"Take it, I said!" Heyes let it go a second time, bracing himself for physical retaliation.

But Devi chuckled instead. "I figured," he said. Heyes cast him a sideways look and was struck by how sinister his adversary appeared. Devi's eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set way back. "We'll do it my way now, Heyes." He removed his own neckerchief and used it to bind the gun to Heyes's hand, his finger in the trigger. Heyes tried to deftly maneuver the gun barrel in the direction of his enemy, but Devi made sure the gun pointed only at the front door. Now Heyes couldn't move any part of his body.

Except for the trigger finger.

Devi sat down on the chair next to Heyes. He slowly and intentionally pulled his own gun from its holster and made sure Heyes was watching as he pointed it first at the side of Heyes's head, then to the floor. He was grinning.

"This is it, Hannibal Heyes. The time of reckoning. This is where I get my comeuppance. For the kitchen, for everything you and Jed Curry did to me. There's only one bullet in your gun. You will shoot that gun when Curry walks through the door. You will shoot to kill. If you miss, if you don't shoot, if you shoot early or try to aim the bullet anywhere else . . . I will kill Jed first and then I will slice you head to toe. Just like I promised. Out to the buzzards. Just like I promised. Very painful, Heyes." His speech was slow and methodical and every word seemed to be carefully chosen. He chuckled again.

Heyes watched him with a sideways glance, the only way he could see Devi sitting at his side. He could not respond even though he wanted more than anything on earth to do so. He could not talk, move, nod, punch, or shoot Devi. He was a prisoner in every sense of the word and the only thing he would be able to do was shoot the gun.

Which he would not do. He would die.

* * *

The old house was a long way off the road but Kid Curry still spotted it. He reined up in the road and sat studying the house for a moment. Most everything seemed fairly normal with the place. Heyes's horse was tied out front alongside another saddled animal. The house needed painting and general fixing up, just like the letter said. There was no one about; it was quiet like the letter said.

Like the letter said. The kid pulled it out of his pocket and read it for the hundredth time.

_they wont be here . . ._

But there was a horse next to Heyes's. An elderly couple wouldn't have one saddled horse; the barn was not still standing. Perhaps Heyes had recruited extra help. If so, why was there no noise? No hammering, no one outside painting. The house was a long way off the road, but hammering would still be heard.

The suspicions the Kid had entertained since his first reading of the letter had never been stronger. Still holding the letter, he grabbed his binoculars to see the place more closely. The closer inspection proved without a doubt that the house and the few remaining outbuildings were in serious need of rejuvenation. He also ascertained that the horse was indeed his partner's. He did not recognize the other animal.

But he did see a man in the window. A man who looked vaguely familiar in some ways but whose identity he could not pinpoint. The man was gazing intently in his direction, squinting in an effort to see him better. The Kid guessed that the man was not able to tell that he was using binoculars.

He did not see Heyes.

He spent a few seconds more checking out the area around the house and then kicked his horse back into a canter.

To continue on down the road.

* * *

Devi was becoming edgy as he waited impatiently for the Kid to show. Obviously disappointed that the man on the road was not his intended prey, he consoled himself by regaling the defenseless Heyes with stories of what he could expect if he failed to pull the trigger.

"Keep thinking about it, Heyes," he said, looking from the window to his victim and back again. "You keep thinking about what's going to happen to you. You don't shoot? – I do. Curry goes down and then I use my knife on you. Maybe I'll just shoot to injure him first and make him watch as I slice you head to toe and back up again. Maybe I'll make him watch – lying there in the doorway in pain, begging for mercy – as I drag you over his body and throw you to the buzzards before I come back inside and finish him off. You can listen to the shot. You can watch each other die." He chuckled as he stared at Heyes for a moment. Heyes had his eyes closed, trying hard – unsuccessfully – not to listen. Devi walked over to Heyes and grabbed his hair to force his eyes open. "You gotta listen when I talk, Heyes. I'm telling you about the pain you'll have. You want to hear that, don't you?" He chuckled again. "You think you're in pain now? It's nothing compared to what you're going to feel!"

Devi returned to his vigil at the window. "Or you can make the right choice. You can pull the trig . . ." He froze. He heard a noise outside, something he couldn't identify. He glanced quickly at Heyes to make sure his victim had not somehow miraculously gotten loose, then leaned out the window with his gun drawn. He scanned the landscape in every direction and saw nothing amiss. But suspicion was always a guiding factor in the life of a man like Devi. "Not taking no chances," he mumbled as he walked back to Heyes.

As Devi settled in the empty chair next to Heyes and aimed his loaded pistol at the front door, Heyes knew somehow that this was it. The front door – with the Kid walking innocently through and getting gunned down – this was the last thing he expected he would ever see. Heyes swallowed hard, not an easy thing to do with the gag in his mouth and the rope around his neck. For a quick moment the pain he felt over most of his body came through; then he returned his concentration to his friend. His beloved friend, his partner in crime and honesty. The one person he cared about in life, and the only person, he figured, who cared about him. Jed Curry. An honest soul with eyes of steel that belied his ability to love. Heyes warmly dwelled on the fondness they felt for each other. A luxury. A luxury he allowed himself after a night of continuous horrifying images passing through his head. The Kid.

The Kid could not save him but he would do what he could to save the Kid. He would groan, or wiggle in the chair, or try to make some kind of noise or movement that would warn the always-alert Kid to the presence of real danger, to the need to respond immediately. Before thinking. Heyes was not sure that he could do this. Devi had tied all the ties painfully tight and the gag in his mouth hardly allowed him to breathe, let alone make noise. For the hundredth – thousandth – time he tried moving some part of his body that would allow for a small amount of noise, but he simply could not.

Heyes looked at Devi. The devil himself. Devi was sitting attentively in the chair next to Heyes, gun pointed at the front door, ready at any second to pull the trigger if Heyes failed to do so. Devi had known Jed Curry and knew the same thing that Heyes knew – that Jed had a sweet disposition and a dependable nature. Both knew that the Kid would be showing up shortly in response to the note. Heyes closed his eyes and determined that he would not open them again. There was nothing else he wanted to see . . . he focused on a mental image of the Kid and things that had made him happy in his life . . .

the pain disappeared . . .

the fear subsided . . .

the . . .

A huge crash! BANG! Again! Two gunshots!

It happened too quickly for any response, but Heyes felt a warm liquid splatter across his face. Blood, he thought. The Kid's blood. In the same instant, he could feel his eyes filling with tears. He tried to concentrate on his own body and felt the pain return. He realized he was gritting his teeth. He refused to open his eyes. Then he heard something else.

Footsteps.

Then he heard his name.

"You all right?" Heyes heard the very familiar voice of Jed Curry, the familiar tone, the familiar intensity, the familiar concern. He felt the nearness of someone. The Kid? It couldn't be! He recognized that someone was untying and removing the gags from his mouth. Heyes, summoning up all the courage he'd ever known in his life, opened his eyes.

Standing in front of him, throwing the gag to the ground and reaching next to untie the rope that bound Heyes's neck to the chair, was Kid Curry!

Heyes's joy was profound and overtook him. His breath came in short gasps. His eyes glanced downward and he saw Devi lying on the ground, blood pooling around him. A lot of blood. _Shot through the heart,_ Heyes thought idly. He tried to respond to the Kid's question but could not find his voice. Perhaps from having been gagged for a while, perhaps from shock at seeing the enemy dead at his feet, perhaps from something else . . . He sat still and closed his eyes again, concentrating on the blood flowing back into each body part as the Kid continued to untie his bindings. His right arm, his left arm, his waist, his feet. Heyes worked unsuccessfully to control his ragged breathing and his emotions as he gasped for breath.

"You look bad. What the . . .? This damn chair's nailed to the ground!" The Kid's voice had never sounded better. Heyes turned his head to look at his partner, sinking the image deeply into his soul as a starving man eats ravenously. When he realized that his tears must have been apparent, he turned his gaze and looked at his own hands. He saw the new wounds – where the ropes had cut into his wrists – and realized that he couldn't feel any pain any more. He laughed hysterically, just a little, then cried just a little.

Heyes's tears surprised the Kid. He took a good look at his partner. It was obvious Heyes had greatly suffered at the hands of the dead man. There were bruises on his face and blood in his hair and he was also spattered with blood from the dead man. The ropes had cut deeply into his skin. The Kid suspected there were other injuries he couldn't see. Heyes had put up a hard struggle and lost. The Kid suddenly felt a strong wave of emotion and clasped his friend's head to his own chest, grateful to feel his anger become compassion. Heyes was thankful for the gesture and grabbed the Kid's arm. The close contact had a miraculous calming effect on both of them.

After a moment, the Kid held Heyes at arms' length. "What happened here?" he asked softly. When Heyes looked up at him and seemed more at peace, the Kid was bolstered. "You had this gun tied to your hand. One bullet and aimed at the front door. Does that mean what I think it means?"

Heyes shook his head sadly.

"Who is this maniac, anyway?" The Kid kneeled down and turned Devi over so his face was visible.

"He had a vendetta against us, Kid," Heyes's voice cracked just a little with his first spoken words. "He hated us since Valparaiso. Wanted me to kill you. At first I didn't even remember him . . ." Heyes stopped talking, again unable to control his emotions.

The Kid continued to look at Devi's face. "Valparaiso . . . Valparaiso . . ." He studied the features, thinking they were familiar but unable to place them. Just like Heyes had. Then he suddenly had it. "Devi Sodd," he said icily.

Heyes shook his head and looked away.

"So he _did _want to get even for the kitchen," the Kid whispered, mostly to himself.

Heyes heard and snapped back to reality. "What are you talking about? He kept talking about the kitchen, saying it was our fault. He had a vendetta. You were supposed to die. Me, too, probably. I was supposed to finish you off first. Because of a _kitchen_."

The Kid's features were strained as he looked back at his partner. "What did he do to you?"

"There wasn't much he _didn't_ do. What do you know about this kitchen thing, Kid?" When the Kid just shook his head sadly, Heyes persisted. "You know more than I do, don't you?"

Slowly the Kid stood up and walked to the window to look out. Heyes studied his features. He knew his partner well and he knew he was about to hear something that would be unpleasant, both for him to hear and for his friend to talk about. He tried to stand to walk over by the Kid but his legs wouldn't support him after having been inactive for so long and he fell back onto the chair. The Kid ignored this and remained silent. Heyes tried standing again, this time more successfully. He turned to face the wall behind him. There he saw the door that had led into the backyard lying half off its hinges. The Kid had obviously kicked it in, thus taking Devi by surprise. Heyes remembered hearing a loud bang before the two gunshots so that must have been it. He wondered who shot first, not really caring. The Kid using the back door as a surprise entrance meant he knew – or had a vague idea – what was happening in the house. Very clever of his partner. Heyes assumed the man Devi had seen on the road earlier almost had to have been the Kid. Their binoculars probably gave him an idea what was going on; seeing Devi sitting in the window must have alerted him to some danger. He must have shied off and circled the house, keeping a wide berth. He truly surprised Devi by entering through the back. Absorbed with admiration, Heyes momentarily forgot about the kitchen story.

"That was great, Kid!" Heyes pointed to the back door. "That was brilliant! You could easily have walked into a trap but you didn't. How did you figure it out?"

The Kid turned to him and smiled slightly. "I learned a few things from you, Heyes. Never trust anyone, for one thing. And for another . . ." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the letter Devi had written and had delivered to him. "Well, here, read it for yourself. I knew this couldn't've come from you." The Kid reached over to hand it to Heyes.

He read it through twice before commenting. "This is the worst example of bad grammar and spelling I've ever seen. No wonder you knew it didn't come from me."

The Kid looked at him quizzically. "Really? I figured it out from 'Hann.' You haven't used that name in years."

Heyes smiled a little. "That too." Heyes felt his legs beginning to weaken under him and sat down again. He re-read the letter, shaking his head. "Franton . . . faling . . . pantbrush . . . and he expected you to believe this came from me. . ." He trailed off and let his hands with the letter relax in his lap. He looked up solemnly at the Kid. "What happened with Devi and the kitchen, Kid? I have a right to know."

The Kid realized that there was no one else on earth who had a better right. After all Heyes had gone through . . . The Kid assumed a grim expression and turned back to the window.

"Remember that night when we decided to run away?"

"From Valparaiso? Of course."

"We planned it in a whisper so no one would hear us. That night we snuck into the kitchen to steal some food for our journey. Our first crime!" It was a small, mirthless joke, but neither laughed. "We ran away that night and the last thing we saw was the kitchen when we looked back. We got almost as far as Farmdale and decided to stop for a rest. We were tired. It was probably 1 or 2 in the morning. Do you remember that I tried to cut some kindling and couldn't find my Bowie knife? It wasn't in my pocket where I kept it, remember?"

"Of course I remember. We talked about it and you remembered that you had set it down in the kitchen next to the dry sink to load your pockets with food. You forgot to pick it up again."

"And I'd had it all my life and I wanted it back . . ."

"So you left me there in the middle of nowhere and ran all the way back to get your knife! I was alone and scared and it snowed. Yeah, I remember, Kid, but where is all this going?"

"Bear with me here, Heyes. This is hard to talk about." He paused for a minute. He hadn't looked at Heyes at all during this talk, but now he looked directly at him. Heyes saw that his features were strained and his jaw was set. This was indeed difficult for him to discuss. Heyes waited patiently.

"Remember how I looked when I got back? Dirty. Torn jacket. Black eye. Rope burns."

"Yes, Kid. You said you'd tried to steal a horse while you were there and the horse threw you so you ran back to Farmdale instead. I never believed it, though – about the horse-stealing. But you didn't seem to want to talk about it then." Heyes was catching on. "That's not what happened, is it? Any of it?"

The Kid shook his head 'no' and looked back out the window.

"No. I never told you what happened because I thought you'd be ashamed of me. Hate me, not want to be my friend any more. Took me a long time to get over that feeling. Maybe still not."

Heyes wanted to say something to reassure his friend, but something about the Kid's cheerless mood made him hold his tongue.

"I snuck back in real quiet and found my knife right away and put it in my pocket. I was about to leave when I saw a small light on the other side of the dry sink, the other side of the kitchen. I froze at first because I didn't know what it was. When I realized it was a fire where no fire should have been, I ran over. Almost fell over Devi, who was adding things to the fire to make it larger. We were both surprised, but he accused me of spying on him. Said he knew you were in the kitchen somewhere, too. Heyes, he had started the fire on the wood floor and was trying to burn the place down! I couldn't let him do that! All those boys sleeping in the bunkroom, and the teachers, everyone! I tried to stamp out the fire but he grabbed my leg and forced me to the ground. We got into a fight and rolled around on the kitchen floor. A couple of times he tried to force me into the fire, even burned my hand a little (what you thought was rope burns) but I managed to get away. He kept grabbing me to keep me from killing the fire, but every time I got away from him I tried to stamp out the fire. I couldn't; it just got too big for me. He grabbed me and tried to force me into the flames! I was scared! I remember finally being able to overpower him and throw him to the ground. He was close to the flames, but instead of rolling away, he rolled into them by accident. He got his face burned a little, I think, and I remember him screaming. I screamed, too, for help, because the fire was getting out of control. And then I ran. And I never looked back until I was on the top of Gulliver's Hill. I saw a lot of people milling around. The fire must have been put out. I stayed long enough to be sure. And then I ran all the way back to where you were."

Heyes was pensive as he let this story sink in. "Oh, Kid, all those people . . . they could have all died because of Devi. Every one of them . . ."

The Kid hung his head. "I couldn't tell you, Heyes. I was so ashamed. Of me, of Devi, of Valparaiso. All I wanted to do was run far away and put it all behind me. Guess that's what I did."

"Kid! You have nothing to be ashamed about! Think about it! You saved the lives of all those people! They'd probably be dead if it wasn't for you! You yelled out and you made Devi scream and that's what awakened everybody in time to put out the fire."

The Kid sighed. "I know, but every time I think about this I wish it had never happened. You know damn well Devi never told them he was the one who started the fire, and because we were gone, they probably blamed us for it. You had nothing whatsoever to do with it, and they would be blaming you! And if you knew about it, you'd be ashamed of me for not stopping him somehow. I couldn't tell you because I thought you'd want to get a new friend. After that, I needed to . . . I don't know . . ._impress_ you."

Once again Heyes wanted to speak comforting words but something stopped him. An idea had planted itself in his mind and he wanted to confirm it. He took a good look at Kid Curry, his partner, his ally, his friend all their lives. In a matter of seconds, so much flashed through his mind. All the good feelings were there – the love for his friend, the contentment, the respect. He had never been ashamed of the Kid. In fact, just the opposite. Heyes couldn't think of anyone who he respected more. Heyes had always thought of himself as the brains of the duo but that was not to take anything away from the Kid. What just happened was a case in point. Anyone else might have just walked through the front door and gotten himself killed, but the Kid knew enough to keep cover and enter quickly through the back. That alone was proof that the Kid was someone worth respecting.

But the need to _impress_ . . . that was something else.

Heyes closed his eyes and allowed his memory to wander back to the time immediately following their escape from Valparaiso. They had saved a few dollars between them and the Kid had used most of it to buy himself a gun and some bullets. _We need protection_, he'd said. Heyes had no reason to doubt him. But neither of them had ever used a gun before. Heyes remembered that the Kid spent hours practicing every day, first at aiming accurately, then eventually at fast-drawing. Heyes had asked a few times how necessary all that was. It became a joke. _We need protection. All right, Jed, you get my back._

Heyes looked again at his partner, who was still staring drearily out the window. _I needed to . . . impress you._

That was it then. The Kid had taught himself to draw quickly and accurately, not so much to protect them both as much as to impress Heyes. To impress his best friend. To make amends for the fire he knew would be blamed on Heyes (and himself), even though it wasn't their fault. To make it up to Heyes.

To earn respect. To . . ._impress._

Heyes was stunned by this sudden realization. All these years he had thought of the Kid's fast draw as simply a special talent, a weapon they could count on in an emergency. It had worked well with the special talents Heyes had utilized – brains to plan robberies, for example. Heyes believed the Kid's gun hand was nothing more than a talent he had discovered and polished.

And now Heyes knew this wasn't true. In reality, the Kid had forced himself to learn these skills to impress Heyes, to make sure that Heyes found him valuable enough to keep around. Never suspecting that the fondness they felt for each other was sufficient. And all these years the Kid had carried around the guilt he felt about the last night at Valparaiso. Guilt he kept to himself.

So this then was the legacy Kid Curry chose. To be protective, to be dependable, to be the kind of friend anyone would be proud to have. And Hannibal Heyes _was_ proud of him, never more so than at that moment. Legacy was the right word, Heyes thought. No one could give more than to devote his life to a friend.

Heyes was overcome by a combination of these major realizations and the weakness caused by his wounds. He stood to get the Kid's attention and felt himself swooning so grabbed on to the chair back. "Kid," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "no one ever respected anyone more than I do you. Don't ever forget that. That night we ran away, every day since then . . . you've always been a hero to . . ." Heyes passed out and dropped heavily to the floor.

* * *

Kid Curry sat in a chair by the window, feet propped up on the windowseat. The Kid whistled low and worked happily at cleaning his gun. Spinning the cylinder, oiling, shining. Doing what he loved best. And smiling.

Hannibal Heyes watched him from the comfortable featherbed, aware that the Kid did not know he had awakened. A quick glance around the room told him that the Kid had brought him safely to a town where he could heal up. Although his wounds pained him, they were not bad and Heyes did not spend time thinking about them. He gladly watched his friend at his task. The Kid's smile meant contentment, happiness. This is the Jed Curry he'd known for so many years. The man who loved life and the ability to defend it. The man who loved his friend and vowed to protect him. This is what friendship was all about. Trust, respect, caring. _I'll be all right, thanks to you, Kid._

_You'll be all right, too._

The Kid couldn't possibly impress him more.

* * *

_Disclaimer:__ All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended_.

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